


Privacy

by Anonymous



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Horror, Frottage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Trans Character, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Just a few intimate moments spent together.
Relationships: Maxwell/Wilson (Don't Starve)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37
Collections: Anonymous





	Privacy

His partner was - how should he put this - _quite_ vigorous tonight.

That wasn't, that wasn't the _usual,_ no, Wilson was sure of that, but all he could do at the moment was keep his hands caught to the sides of that open rumpled suit jacket and try to keep his own balance as warm breath shakily exhaled against his neck, sensitive skin between throat and shoulder, the press of heated kisses and even wetter licks and nips as he endured the bombardment.

How long has Maxwell been waiting for this, for this "alone" time and intimacy? All day? Since this morning? It was always hard to tell when the older man was feeling up to it, or even was entertaining the idea, up until he'd lay a faint touch to Wilson's shoulder and drag a tingling trail across and then down his spine, or gently brush brittle knuckles to his cheek and neck in a slow, almost teasing fashion, or even just so subtly slide up to his side and lean into him, press just so to indicate some sort of questioning of permission to deepen the contact.

If Wilson was up to it, he'd casually invite the old man to his tent for the night, nevermind the fact that they shared the bedding space anyhow, and get up to pleasurable activities in the midnight twilight of darkness and quiet privacy that was allowed to them here. It was good that the both of them were quiet lovers; no telling what trouble or drama that would cause, if someone overheard their intimacy, be it the prude old librarian or the few children who oftentimes lived within camp.

And that wouldn't even touch on the fact that Maxwell was not quite so upfront when it came to this part of their relations together; his prudish nature when exposed around the others only got worse whenever someone, namely the nosey Willow, insinuated something or other in some crude joke at either men's expense, and Wilson has learned through numerous hurls that keeping it as hush hush, or at the very least on the down low for Maxwell's sake and ease of mind was better off than letting it be public knowledge or discussed as such. It seemed to lessen the anxiety in his partner, when there was no threat of others intruding in...whatever this was that they had.

Wilson let his eyes flutter closed, a shivery intake of chilly air through his nose as he waited out the nipping of sharp teeth to his throat, hot against his carotid artery, and it did make him flinch at the sensitive, rather fragile spot but then that hot tongue lapped over as if in apology, then peppered kisses that the other man never seemed to get enough of, trailing from the stinging marks to under his jawline, going so far as to under his ear, making him tilt his head a bit in response, then down and absolutely attempting to cover him in the damp shows of affection.

There was a desperation to it, of course, desperation in how tightly those dark nightmare stained hands gripped to him, how the other man kept his weight heavy on him, leaning, pressing against him, burying himself against Wilson and yet still trying to keep some form of control over the entire act.

It felt nice, all things considered; they've been doing this for a long, long time now, and Maxwell knew where to put his hands, where to press or scrape or rub in soothing circles, and while Wilson greatly appreciated it this was very obviously going to be one of those times it went off the rails and elsewhere.

Maxwells hands fumbled against his buttons, no attempt to pull back and reorientate, only this haphazard shuffle and more pressure, more of his partner clinging to him, panting and huffing and pressing kisses to him in every which way possible, and Wilson-

-Wilson let him.

He knew the last few days have been a bit harsher than usual, what with Wigfrids new revival and Wes having tumbled out of the portal and Wendy having hit that age where she went all rebellious and so very much louder in her dislike of her uncle, and Maxwell has been going through hell for days now withstanding it all. No deaths yet, Wilson has ensured no one was to kill the other, but he could only do so much, only hold it all off for so long.

And he wasn't one to try and convince someone what they were feeling was the wrong thing. They all had rights to their judgements and hatred, as did he, and he was fairly certain Maxwell knew this as well.

He hoped the old man didn't think of this as a last hurrah, that this was some sort of messed up goodbye of sorts. The others may be angry, but of course Wilson would do everything in his power to make sure Maxwell wouldn't get _actually_ killed!

But he knew his partner's paranoia and anxieties well by now, and this was another reason he did not voice any complaint to the frantic nature of tonight. Maxwell may think this to be the last before something terrible happened to him, and all Wilson can do is make sure it isn't a bad experience.

He liked sex a little less than the next person, but it was nice, once in awhile. 

And, Maxwell _was_ good at it, at least with him anyhow.

Though he was pretty sure his partner wasn't up for the full thing tonight. Not with how he had earlier shoved up Wilsons knee and was using him to grind upon.

There was heat everywhere his partner touched, hot and wet and slimy as his neck was lathered in attention and gloved hands pressed and tugged and gripped and grappled frantically with his uncooperative undershirt, but Wilson only softly sighed, shifted his leg, and felt the older man shudder and tighten his thighs about his knee at the movement. Heat rubbed against him there, a bit more frantic and harsher than he was used to, but Maxwell kissed his jaw and scrappy unshaven face and panted quick and fast, gripped him tight in a desperate embrace as his hips worked against Wilson.

He could do better, and a part of him wanted to. But everytime Wilson so much as shifted his grip, tried to adjust his hand downwards Maxwell shoved him back, assaulted his neck and bit his collarbone and rubbed against him, used the rather uncomfortable point of his knee to keep the friction going. 

It must be a bit rough, actually.

"M, Max," His voice was a bit winded, hot and bothered and now certainly feeling the discomfort of too tight trousers, but Maxwell only pressed his face to his throat, hot breath and that pokingly large nose to his skin, hands that gripped and squeezed and rubbed frantic touch up and down his own arms, tugged against his undershirt, "You, do you want me to take care of-"

His interrupted answer was a bite, a far sharper nip and the sudden jut of those bony hips grinding against his knee, gripping him tight as his partners thighs squeezed and thin body shook and shivered for a moment. His skin pricked hot, sweaty, pain from where those jaws had latched onto him, but Wilson only rubbed his own dull clawed hands up and down those thin sides, dragging against the worn jacket fabric and breathing his own warmed air against the other man, waiting.

After a moment Maxwell finally stilled, great heaving breaths against him. Clothed humping wasn't really Wilsons thing, things got too chapped and dirtied that way, but Maxwell seemed to have achieved some level of satisfaction what with how he relaxed atop him, going limp with a shivery breath, a low, exhausted exhale against Wilsons wet, stinging skin.

That might have to be it for tonight, he realized slowly, as his partner huffed against him, coming down from the high. He brushed his claws in shallow circles, pressure and firm touch atop that worn out old jacket, and Maxwell made no other move than to breath against him, chest to chest, finally calming.

He hesitated in speaking up, this _had_ been a bit different than usual, but Wilson followed through anyhow, just incase; better safe than sorry, and it was always good to check up in these sorts of interactions of theirs.

"...Better?"

A pause, moment of silence before the other man swallowed thickly against him, his breathes still heavy and half heaved, hot and damp against his stinging neck, but Maxwell shifted, turned his face and nuzzled against him with a far slower, softer shift in his movements this time, adjusting himself a bit as to get comfortable.

"...Yes, love." Hands tickled faintly against Wilson's sides, brushed upwards in a more relaxed state as to fiddle with the buttons, and after a beat of silence Maxwell heaved a sigh, drawn out and weighed heavy in the slowed exhale before lilting into quiet, more comfortable and less frantic air.

Wilson had to blink a moment, reoriented himself when he realized a hand had snaked down and was gently palming him through his trousers, getting a feel for him it seemed before he shifted and got himself raised to his elbows, the full, in reality very light, weight of Maxwell still laid upon him. His partner still had his face laid against his shoulder, the feeling of a soft breath exhaled against his stinging neck, and it was only a quick glance but the older man's eyes watched him half lidded, that pitch black shine and just oh so vaguely unreadable.

His glance seemed to spur on his partner, and Wilson was suddenly eased back into laying flat again as Maxwell shifted and hovered above him, one hand still firmly cupping him through his trousers. Whatever had gripped him earlier in that desperate bid to get closer to Wilson had faded, tide pulled back into showing that far more intimate half smile, dark eyes looking him over in ways Wilson was still figuring the puzzle pieces out for.

And then a more familiar grin bloomed out, the narrow of those dark eyes, and the flip in atmosphere, the slightest squeeze that had Wilson grit his jaw and wiggle a moment, hot skin prickling in anticipation and claws gripping tight to that worn out suit, it certainly set a new mood for the night, one a bit more shared this time.

"Of course, I haven't forgotten about _you_ , pal~"

The smile that pulled on Wilson's own face was still only half, but when his partner leaned down and bumped both their foreheads together, noses just barely touching and eyes keeping contact in an oddly fond expression, it was a silly, affectionate enough gesture to seal the deal. His claws untensed, pet along the older man's sides, silently slipped under the worn suit jacket to press against that wrinkled old undershirt in barely masked excitement, and hearing, feeling Maxwell give another little soft sigh, this one not so draining this time and more relatable, it was certainly far nicer now.

It was better, when they were on the same know how together. Made Wilson feel better, at any rate, and he certainly hoped, as he shifted his head and pressed his face to his partners shoulder, took in a deep breath and savored the deeply human, solid smell and feel of his partner, that Maxwell felt the same.

***

Sometimes that mouth being so close to such a sensitive place was a bit threatening. Those damn shark teeth, all curved and jutted as terribly as the hounds; it certainly never promised a pretty picture.

Those soft, full lips, however, pressed against his base, large nose nuzzled against his skin and pubic hair, slow, deep exhales of warm air, and Wilson's own dull claws gently tangled into thinning dark hair, the faintest hint of silver grey peppered throughout, and while those pitch black eyes were as far from human as they possibly could be they still rose up to look at him, shining and reflective as that mouth pressed kiss after kiss to his sensitive skin. Mostly against his base, just barely grazing his shaft, and Wilson took in measured breaths, back pressed a bit uncomfortably against the tree trunk behind him, and that, too, made this a bit worse off in a way that sent the arousal straight below his belly and to his groin.

They could get caught, like this, the former Nightmare King on his knees with Wilson's dick in his mouth, and that understanding pooled the heat under his gut even more so, made him twitch at the imagining, along with the spark of adrenaline and worry and slight fear.

Lord, he'd never live with it if one of the children stumbled upon them, and that thought certainly gave him a far harsher reality check but then Maxwell was doing something with his tongue and Wilson couldn't help but tighten his grip, stare down with wide eyes and gaping mouth, cheeks flushed crimson as his partner licked and pressed little kisses to his length.

He wasn't even all that big, honestly! Living around fellows like Wolfgang and Woodie really set some images up in his head he'd rather not know in the first place, but it was common sense to know Maxwell knew this as well as former King the Constant. Didn't give Wilson much answer as to why his cock was so lavished by those plush lips, those snaggle teeth and the _tongue dragged against and then mouthing his sensitive foreskin-_

Sometimes it looked as if to be another game to the older man, something to be learned by doing things step by step, but Wilson couldn't quite think this thought straight at the moment as he panted, as his hands held tight to that thinning, so soft hair and shuddered as his cock leaked pre fluid from his tip. There was a faint tightening, as he twitched, eyes screwing shut at the deep tug of feeling, pressure and heat at the softer touching flow of lips sliding and pressing to him from one side, and it was equal parts maddening and teasing and _absolutely blissful-_

The rough tree bark behind him, the chilly fall air, the open publicness of this private act, none mattered as those teeth dragged light against the side of his erection, as tongue dragged underneath, lapped up the pre bubbling from his head and flowing down his short length, and Wilson forced himself to untense his claws, allow his partner his head back when Maxwell shifted a bit on his knees, whistling in air and feeling the deepened pit under his gut, the sharpened pooling arousal and burn of its approach, how it only just steadily built and built as he cracked open his eyes.

Maxwell still watched him, looked up at him under dark eyelashes, pitch black shiny eyes, so pale face flushed with a pastel blush now, almost cute somehow in that wrinkled soft way the old man could get, though the vulgarity was still a bit prevalent with Wilson's erection laid against his glistening lips, a faint streak of pre sliding down the other man's chin as the tip slid against his hollow cheek.

It was almost maddening, feeling the slide of faint touch and those warm, plush lips working and mouthing so faint and slow to the side of his cock, just barely nibbling his foreskin, and Wilson sucked in a breath of the chill air, flashed his eyes about the clearing they were both in for only a passing moment, eyes glazed with the teasing pleasure and yet still attempting to stay alert.

There was a squeeze, from where Maxwells gloved hands were holding his legs apart, thumbs pressed into his thighs, the faint strain of his trousers having been pulled almost fully down yet not quite, and the other man blinked up at him with a coy curl to his lips, his swollen blushed lips, pressed and dragging and teasing little wet licks to his length, and it was taking a bit to keep himself under control. Wilson's thighs trembled, knees locked and belly tense, and all his silent, imploringly strained look down did was make his partner shift again, then nuzzle back to his groin, lips grazing his base and nose pressing to the sensitive skin and thick dark hair of his lower region.

It was how Maxwell liked it, usually, and Wilson forced himself to keep still, tough it out even as he shivered and his cock leaked another dribbling trail of pre, dripping to the other man's shoulders, spotted his worn suit jacket and slicking up in flowing further. Every twitch, every bob, pulse, throb, it made him brush against that warmth and heat and promising, just out of reach of release, and Wilson kept himself still, kept himself from giving in.

Maxwell liked it, when he was toeing the edge. When he was straining and just about to topple that cliff, and instead had to swing for balance and suffer from it, and there have even been a few times where it went on a little too long, times where his partner was whispering into his ear _hold on, keep still, just a bit longer, love, you can do it_ , and all Wilson could do at those points was shudder and wheeze, gasping and moaning and sobbing for mercy, having been brought to the edge and left for so long that it was near _painful-_

But he always got his reward, in the end, and Maxwell would hum and kiss his neck and pepper his skin in marks and affection and little bites when Wilson was finally allowed to climax, his tears kissed away or licked up and the so satisfied laughs and breathless sounds of pure joy from his partners mouth only went hand in hand with the near blind pleasure that would swoop in and tug him away for a few minutes afterwards.

Maxwell himself didn't orgasm much, Wilson knew, and a part of him would always worry on that, in this odd personal choice his older partner chose. In the end, however, Maxwell would hum to him whenever he came down from his high, encircled and held close as his partner licked and kissed him clean, hugged him tight, and it was such an odd thing, to see him so content when Wilson was the only one who had release.

It worried him even more, to know those were the only times he's seen Maxwell near completely and utterly _happy._ These things, however, were not his expertise; all Wilson could decipher and know of, in this case of his partner and him, was that his own release during sex made Maxwell happy, for whatever reason that may be.

Someday he might be able to learn why, but for now, if it made the old depressed man find some sort of joy in his life, then Wilson was agreeable to it.

His own pleasure and skin to skin contact cravings notwithstanding. He's lived alone for a long, long time before the Constant, and even after all this time the longing still got to him.

A hum was pressed to his sensitive skin, dull and dragging as Wilsons claws locked in the thin tangles of that graying hair, but he shivered through it, bit his lower lip and held himself still as his partner started to move again. His claws untensed, light atop the older man's head as he watched his partners blushed lips press and curl and kiss his base, then up his shaft, another squeeze to his thighs as Maxwell finally trailed his mouth all the way to situate against his tip, the barest touch of plush swelled flesh against his head.

His partner held him there, dark eyes looking up at him and that still oh so teasing smirk was there, a pleased shine and satisfaction to what an absolute mess Wilson must look like, sweaty and overheated in the chilly air, panting and so completely and totally aroused, and he made himself take in a deeper breath of air, swallow thickly as his eyes kept flicking to where his cock was pressed to those lips, just barely brushing them, just out of reach-

And then they opened up, nice and slow and so obviously putting on a show for him, good lord was it so obvious when Maxwell was working hard, those hands kneading the flesh of his thighs, thumbs rubbing in firm circles, and for a brief moment Wilson was privy to that so rare sight of seeing the other man uncurl his tongue.

It stretched, tense then slack over his jagged fanged teeth and the flesh of his plump lower lip, pale almost lavender and neatly split in two at the end, a sight Maxwell usually hid quite well from the others, but this time was for Wilsons benefit, especially when his breath caught in his throat when it stretched and grazed the underside of his cockhead.

Then the lips descended, soft and glistening with spit and smears of pre fluid, that hot length of coiled muscle pressing firmly upwards to the underside of his member, and Wilson's claws tightened once more, almost biting his lower lip hard enough to draw blood as his eyes snapped shut, as his breath whistled from his nose and his cock was enveloped by heat and warmth and silk smooth touch. The other man didn't make a move, of course not, of course he wouldn't, sat there with Wilson's cock in his mouth with that faint curl of a self satisfied smirk and half lidded dark eyes, a soft wet concave that held Wilsons sensitive flesh and kept him still, kept him frozen in place.

It wasn't just the pleasure; Maxwell had some wickedly sharp teeth, and one wrong move can cost Wilson a lot more than he'd like to ever risk. 

It's happened before, and while the bloodplay and sudden ravaging orgasm after had hit harder than he could have imagined the damage had been done and the aftermath not quite so fun to deal with. 

Still, his breath shuttered in his lungs, strained as his thighs trembled and those playful little squeezes from the hands holding him open were getting a bit more familiar, soothing and yet all too teasing, and Wilson forced his eyes open, blinked down to his partner and he shivered and shook, swallowed hard and thick and dry as he wrangled himself together.

"P, please, Max, mMaxie, let me cum, I'm, I'm so, so close…"

He didn't have to fake any sort of whine or tone or anything really, not even put some sort of drama into the beg; he may not sound as desperate as he could be, but Maxwell's pitch black eyes widened ever so slightly, that glazed content look rising from the depths as his hands squeezed Wilson's thighs appreciatively, and with that their little session started to begin its end.

He knew he could hold on longer, of course; it's all been so much teasing, and Maxwell could deep throat him if he wished to, he's done it before.

Not a lot, though, not often, and Wilson knew his partner would rather draw him out and edge him farther than his limits could allow than bring him over the edge too quick, so drawing his own wild card and whimpering a bit of begging, tacking on that little nickname, it should be all the button's he'd need to press to-

Those lips enveloped him, that thick hot tongue pressing and withering underneath his erection, against the glands and slick nerves of his cockhead, a full deep swallow and _hollowing out of the cheeks that Wilson found himself gaping at-_

The sound that fell from his lips was worse than a whimper, a huffed cry at the suction, the friction, the heat and wetness and firm pull, and his claws had inadvertently tightened and his hips jerked and those hands holding him didn't fight as he haphazardly thrust into that open, inviting mouth, his own falling to let out a deep growl of a groan, eyes squeezed tightly shut and leaned far, holding that oh so lovely mouth against, around, _pressed_ to him-

That tongue, that wonderfully skillful tongue withered as Maxwell massaged his thighs, a subconscious message of consent, and Wilson shuddered as that mouth sucked, swallowed him down with the convulsions of flesh and graze of faint too sharp teeth and that thick heated wet mess that teasingly brushed and stroked him in unison with those hot walls and-

A sudden, sharp movement, the pull surprise enough to escape his grip, and Wilson rasped out a sound even he couldn't identify as all contact left his throbbing cock, pre dribbling from his head in a dripping stream, twitching in a strain as his claws found empty air, as his sudden thrust hips found even emptier space before him.

A jolt through him, straight hard to his dick as Wilsons left leg wobbled and knee went tense, then lax as he wobbled in uneven balance, and there was Maxwell, grinning a shark grin and scooting away as Wilson fell to one knee atop the yellowed grasses, his abandoned cock throbbing with an ache for release so strong that he found himself jerkily thrusting against nothing for a moment, claws digging into the earth instead for some sort of anchor as his eyes fluttered closed.

He could've cum like that, his own hands vaguely remembering he could take himself to completion, but then hot breath was against his ear, even hotter words and voice, and he practically sobbed in relief when one of those hot gloved hands trailed from his thigh up and wrapped securely about his throbbing erection.

"Look at you~" A humming hiss, wet kisses pressed to his neck and sudden fast strokes, firm and sleeked by spit and the pre his drooling cock supplied, hot breath exhaled against his face, and Wilson did not open his eyes, could only pant and half thrust into that grip as it sped up, as his mouth fell full open and drool escaped his own jaws, licked up against his chin as his partner laughed, giggled in pure and completely satisfaction at the mess he was in. "Such a harlot, pal, getting jerked off in the middle of the wilderness and _loving_ every second of it~"

There wasn't enough in him to even try to answer, rutting into that firm hand and throbbing, _aching_ for release, orgasm building, building, building up and hard and curling into, under his gut as Maxwell kissed and licked his jawline, nipped his neck as his hand squeezed and did an odd little rough dance on the tip of his cock before squeezing and stroking him down _hard_ all the way to the base-

"Cum for me, love~" Hissed hot and whispered low against his neck, thick arousal deepening Maxwell's voice and a last firm squeeze-

And Wilson was done, a half thrust and growing cry as he burst, sobs leaving his throat as he blindly humped that hand and ejaculated white over those dark fingers, dribbling down into the dirt and yellowed grass.

Maxwell milked him longer, squeezing and stroking fast and rough and foaming his own seed as Wilson whimpered into that grip, finding his face buried to his partners shoulder and neck as his hips jerked and stuttered half thrusts for even longer into the torture, an itch that almost couldn't be quite scratched with each pump as his cock quivered and pathetically shot another strand or two of glistening white.

Even when he softened, when his thighs shook and he was collapsed against his partner he was stroked, gasping for air as pain threatened to lap against his pleasure, rolling touch suddenly polishing his cockhead and half hard dick and making him shudder a garbled cry and one last streak of pale fluid out of him and his overused body, slick and slimy and earning him a humming laugh from his partner, before Maxwell finally, finally, _finally_ stopped jerking him off.

Wilson panted, gasping and shivering and twitching, as one of those wet fingers idly rubbed his softened cock head, made him jerk when massaging against his slit and the dark blushed skin of his oversensitive flesh, and he could feel the faintest brush of teeth to his shoulder, the hum, that almost tense feeling, and he-

A part of him almost feared, shiveringly anticipated that _Maxwell wanted to keep going-_

But finally his partner stilled with a soft sigh, a strained, almost saddened sigh even, but there were kisses pressed to his cheek and side of his head and then temple, forehead, huffed sighs as a nose nuzzled into his hair and he could feel the satisfied smile pressed to his skin, the firm hug as Maxwell held him close for his own comforts.

The chilly air meant nothing, in the hold of his partner, wet and sticky from his release that had coated the other man's fingers and clothing and splattered all about the grass, but Maxwell licked his fingers, kissed his cheek with a hum and that dulled down, glazed look of contentment.

Wilson let him be, held and warm and quiet for the moment, and it was enough to drift into a doze and the appreciative exhaustion of sexual release.

Maxwell was just all too good at this, when it came to doing it with him.

***

They had a general rule of thumb, him and the former Nightmare King; _no shadows._

Of course, there were other rules, some unspoken and others explicitly discussed and boundaries drawn in solid, easy to understand and follow guidelines. Wilson did not wish to be directly kissed in any open mouth to mouth fashion, Maxwell wanted explicit permission when it came to oral sex enacted on him, the dirty talk was at a very low minimal and there was absolutely no mention of nonconsent in anything either of them did to each other-

Some of these came up suddenly and due to poor management of mental health; the past still was around to haunt the both of them, and Wilson tried to not think of the early days too much, with Maxwell acting in kind. It certainly killed the mood, and by now it was easier to know when was a good time and when it was the farthest it could ever be if either of them wanted that close contact.

The former King had been a tough nut to crack back then; it still grazed Wilson wrong, knowing a few of those times had occurred without the old man actually being fully on board but not a word being said otherwise to put a stop to it, not to mention what had happened while they both had taken their turns upon the Throne.

Still, whatever they ended up doing together in the privacy of their tent had started to get easier over time, and Wilson didn't have many qualms about it nowadays.

Of these boundaries, however, it was definitely the shadows that came up with a bit more leniency.

That was fairly obvious right now, especially with the shadow doppelganger pressed right behind him, Wilson practically in the things lap. 

For his part, Wilson was a bit distracted by the mouth on his neck. Those hickies were going to smart after this, and even still Maxwell only just now had switched sides, gloved hands squeezing his shoulders and thin chest brushing against his own as their heady breaths warmed up the air together.

The steady temperature in the caves kept the summer heat above to a minimum, though already his clothes were getting a bit stuffy, air hot and stinking of furs and sweat and musk, filling the tent and making him pant heavy, tilt his head back at the slightest sharp hint of pain, the flush of sensation, pleasure and pain as his partner nibbled on his neck and blossomed another bruised marking under his attentions. The shadow behind him, cradling him, letting him lean back and holding him up as Maxwell showered him in that damp, roughened desperate affection, it was neither warm nor cold, numbing nor pins and needles.

Wilson found himself appreciating that, as Maxwell's hands trailed down his shoulders, fiddled with his vest and undershirt buttons, slipping him half free of the clothing and exposing his chest to that expectant mouth. The damp dip of brushing jagged teeth, a lapping tongue to his collarbone and the shifting movement as the old man's hands lowered to touch what his mouth could not reach, and it finally slipped free the heady exhale of almost sound from Wilsons throat and lungs, chest taking in deep heaving breaths, eyes half open and glazed under the caresses.

The caves were not particularly welcoming places, not at all good for loving sex either, but that was perhaps the better for the both of them. The utter privacy was well sought after, and escaping the heat, both of the season and the main camp, was an added bonus. Too much drama at once cut down leisure time and extra energy, and they haven't been down here long but Wilson has already engaged in some rather vulgar, deeply anticipated and missed activities with his partner in these tunnels and this was just another one to remember later on in some far off date.

The shadows hollow face was pressed to the side of the back of his head, just the barest sensation to let him know of its solid presence, its chin laid against his shoulder and entire body neatly wrapped about him in an odd hug, and its darkness infused talons dragged slowly atop his trouser legs, just the barest dip against his still clothed thighs before pulling away to his knees, and this was just teasing touch, an addition that he found himself having no issue with so far.

Maxwell, in comparison to his mimic, was near in Wilsons own lap, long thin legs spread about his stature, the shadow accommodating and stretched as to allow the space, and Wilson lazily enjoyed the hands, the two pairs upon him, gloved ones feeling up his hairy chest, shadows pacing the muscles of his legs and keeping him still and content. A wet tongue lathered against the dip of his throat, brushing jagged fangs to his sensitive skin and making Wilson jolt ever so slightly, and he could feel the grin on Maxwells face at that, pressed hotly against him as Wilson took in a deep, steadying breath.

Gloved talons padded under his hanging open clothing, mapped his ribs and made him grit his teeth and stay _still_ , only the faintest hint of a wiggle that went out just as quickly as one wrinkled hand trailed lower than just his chest.

Cupping him all too firmly, a light squeeze that earned a hiccup of exhaled, strained sound from Wilson as his nerves shivered and skin blazed red hot under this touch, and the thing behind him tightened its hold at his shudder, firmly kept him from collapsing down into the bedding and forcing him to stay seated.

It meant he couldn't wiggle back, out of that persistent touching hands range, massaging him with slight squeezes and pinches to the outwardly visible tenting to his trousers, but when Wilson rose up his own hands the shadow was quick to entangle his claws with its dark taloned fingers, pull his arms down as soft lips went back to work against his throat.

"M, Max-"

"Relax, pal," hummed that low voice against his neck, thick with arousal and that odd adoration, the way those gloved hands mapped out his skin and reached to touch as much of him as possible, "this'll feel nice~"

There was bated anticipation in there, something a bit rare actually, though those sharp teeth nibbled and scraped slow against his neck, exploring hands stilling as the shadows taloned thumb started to rub circles on his knuckles, the slick feel of its fuel form odd and unnerving and yet solid enough, _Maxwell_ enough to be familiar.

There was a pause, a moment of quiet and both their heavy breaths and Wilson squinted open his eyes and _what was he waiting for-_

Oh right.

His nod was a bit shaky, bumped up against his partners head, though judging from that pressured exhale and another round of wet kisses peppered to his stinging neck it was enough of a confirmation for the both of them. His own dull claws turned to squeeze with those nightmare fuel crafted talons, felt the slightest give from the oily jelly before it solidified and answered back in kind, the shadow snuggling itself close and firm to his back, feeling its faceless head tilt and press into his thick hair with what could have been interpreted as a sigh.

The older man's hands were moving again, though this time the teasing brushes and rough squeezing had eased off in favor of actually fiddling with his trouser buttons and getting Wilson free of them. There was no attempt at pulling them fully down or even sliding them off him, and Wilson idly glanced down to watch as those gloved hands went about shoved his boxers low without any fanfare, wholly focused on one thing and one thing only.

Those kisses twisted into another attempt at a hickey, made Wilson tilt his head and narrow his eyes at the sharp, sweet hints of pain as those jagged teeth brushed close and those softer lips worked on his skin, but there was more distraction now that Maxwell was touching his cock. 

Slow strokes for now, feeling him up as Wilson focused on just evening his shaky breathes, focused on the heat atop him and the solid sensation of the shadow behind him, the pressure pooling under his gut as those skilled hands twisted and pushed a thumb under his head, rubbed gently against the nerves there and made Wilson exhale a soft noise, pre bubbling up and slicking across those wonderful fingers.

The shadows hands kept entangled with his dull claws for a few moments longer, before it shifted and directed him into grasping onto the bedding underneath him, the thin leather and furs from rabbits patched together for the hotter seasons, and when it seemed assured at him keeping still, fuel talons brushed and then rubbing up and down his arms, just barely sweeping against his shoulder, it turned its hands to his outstretched legs once more, up and down and pressing massaging touch in dips to his thighs. It just barely seemed to brush its creator and puppeteer, but Maxwell was more focused on pressing his lips against Wilsons jaw, scraping his teeth lightly against his unshaven face as one hand worked slow pumps on his erection and the other continued to pet and squeeze the flesh of his chest, drag through dark hair and then curl and tease his nipples.

His breathing was picking up again, shaky at the sensations and the faintest pain when his partners hands pinched him, the vague erotic disgust at a tongue lapping against the corner of his mouth before sliding away again, and the shadow behind him was a silent solid presence, keeping him still and trapped under the teasingly slow, rough ministrations of his partner, it all compounded into making Wilson bite his lip, chest rising and falling a bit quicker as the seconds passed, as he started nearing the edge. The nipping was going a bit more threatening now as sharp teeth grazed and faintly dug against his neck, the other man's own breath picking up in those whistled inhales and hot exhales, as his gloved hand stroked down and squeezed, stilled as Wilson shivered, twitching as he tried to keep himself still, as the shadow clone held him in place.

"You, you keep doing that and I, I'm…" He trailed off, voice shaky, letting the insinuation go through instead as he sucked in a deep breath, felt Maxwell's free hand press open palmed against his chest just to feel him do so, and the other man hummed against his neck, almost as if having a rest and just breathing him in even as a gloved thumb started to rub the dip of nerves under his head, smear pre across his sensitive skin in achingly slow movements.

It wouldn't be too bad, if he did orgasm here and now. The usual frazzled post stroking wasn't something he disliked either, though that would mean Wilson would have to put a stop to it before Maxwell got too into making him squirm from mixed pleasure and oversensitivity, and while it was obvious from the pause that his partner did, in fact, want to draw this out a bit longer Wilson really didn't think he had much left for it.

They had gone into the tent for a reason, after all, and not initially to get intimate. Days could be hard to count, down here in the caves, and the plan to go out into the ruins later for another trip, another round of nightmare fuel and thulcite and, hopefully, more rare gems, was going to lead to an exhausting day.

Which meant they totally shouldn't be wasting rest time to do this, but this level of privacy was just so rare on the surface…

And, he supposed, the amount of nightmare fuel available probably accounted to it too.

The shadow clone held him, talons grazing his knee and still dragging slow faint touches up and down his clothed legs, but with a low huff of sound Maxwell sat up fully for the first time since they had started this, hands leaving his sweaty, and highly aroused, flesh. Wilson blinked at him, still laid back and lazed against the doppelgangers solid support, and watched as his partner eased out a glob of oily fuel from his inner suit jacket pockets, the stuff swirling and coagulating in one jelly like blob in his gloved hands.

It was only when the former Nightmare King shifted his attention and free hand to his own clothing that Wilson had a faint inkling of what was planned for the rest of the night.

It made him sit up straighter, a bit sudden judging from the shadows frozen surprise before it easily curled close and molded against him, faceless face buried back to his hair and nuzzled against him, but the older man gave him a pausing glance, pitch black eyes narrowing on him as Wilson unhooked his claws from the worn bedding.

The look was enough to make him almost roll his eyes, though his claws only went to his partners hips, lightly clasped and rubbed his thumbs against the thick clothing still on that far thinner skin.

"What, you honestly think I'm just going to sit here and let you do all the work?"

Maxwell huffed, a snort through his nose as he shook his head ever so slightly, turning his attention into rolling the nightmare fuel globule between his hands, faint spits of it seeping out and dribbling to his lap and soaking through his worn out dress pants.

"I assure you, love, this does not require any of your help."

"So says you." Wilson leaned forward, felt the shadow behind him hurry to do the same, keep contact and lay against his back, but he just pressed his face to that space of throat and shoulder, the briefest brush against that softer wrinkled skin and then the fuel stinking collar and fabric of his partner's suit jacket. "But, am I not a gentleman?"

That got a laugh out of the older man, a hint of exasperation and yet familiarity in the sound, and then there was a poke and slightest shove as Maxwell pushed him back again, back into the shadows solid embrace. 

"Patience is key then." He hummed at him, and his dark eyes had flicked back down again, already having unbuttoned his pants, shifting to push them down a bit, just enough to give room and some space. 

Wilson's hands still haven't left those bony hips, and the movement now allowed him to dip his dull claws to the thin skin and bone that jutted up from his partners structure, rub in little circles, just watching this time. The boxers had to be pushed down, aside as well, and the older man subtly shifted to keep him from seeing too closely, but that was normal enough.

It was a bit too often to Wilson's taste that he was the only one of their relationship that ever got to feel something or reach some climax or other; about time Maxwell finally broke down enough mental walls here in the caves to actually _join in._

It occured to Wilson that it might just be the presence of nightmare fuel and the easy access to the stuff, but he wouldn't admonish Maxwell on his preferences when it came to these sorts of activities. The privacy of the caves allowed for it, and honestly it was a relief in knowing no one may accidentally walk in on them.

There was also a much nicer relief, in knowing his partner wanted to share it this time instead of indulging as a voyeur. Wilson would've thought by now that the former Nightmare King was sick of that from his time on the Throne, but the reality of it was obviously otherwise.

Still, it didn't stop him from shifting one hand, dragging across the brief slip of exposed skin he could see, pale and hollow as Maxwell stilled at his touch, and the faintest trail of soft hair he briefly laid his dull claws upon, just letting his touch get his meaning across. 

Unless they both had some agreed upon specific activity in mind, Wilson didn't really get to touch his partner as much as he'd like. A part of him knew this was an extra security measure; if anyone caught them, it wouldn't come across as Wilson doing much of the touching.

Some bastardized attempt to keep this under wraps that most everyone already knew by now, as well as, somehow, keep him safe from assumptions. It was obvious that it didn't make any sense in the context of nowadays, but he was a bit appreciative of what the gesture entailed, and what Maxwell meant in doing so.

Still didn't make up for what he, what they both were missing out on, and Wilson almost decided to lean against his partner again before Maxwell made the first move instead. His forehead rested against Wilson's shoulder, a low sigh as his dull claws brushed soft circles over the older mans stomach, dragged against the little trail of thin hair, and he would've made an attempt to dip farther but Maxwells other hand, the fuel still cupped and leaking from his fingers, was in the way.

It took a moment to figure out why, and while it certainly caught Wilson off guard there was a giddy feeling that quickly replaced it after.

Maxwell hummed against him, the softest of whispered words, probably Latin, and while Wilson vaguely wondered what in the world had to be said to actually do anything like this he only felt the briefest brush of the former Nightmare Kings fingers as he twisted and enacted his will upon the nightmare fuel.

He sort of wished he could've watched, but Wilson instead just turned his head to press his nose into his partners thinning hair, take in a breath of nightmare oils and sweat and musk and that plain old familiar smell of the older man. Wasn't often when they got to do this _together_ , and anticipation sparked in his gut, traveled lower to his member; the pause had given him time to calm down a bit, but even just touching upon what the future few minutes entailed flushed his skin and made his next breath heavy, pressure settling back into place. 

When Maxwell carefully sat back up, obviously doing so with Wilson's own vague curiosity in mind, just to allow him to look, he didn't waste any time in letting his dull claws dip and then brush lightly against the shadowy erection before him.

Made him crack a smile at the Nightmare King's expense, eyeing the length and build and the oily soft texture, so similar to the very shadow clone pressed up and hugging behind him, and when he rose his gaze his partner silently answered back with an obviously faked scowl, lifting at the edges in a barely contained coy smirk.

"Little less dramatic this time, isn't it?"

Maxwell rolled his eyes, and his hands had traveled back into touching his chest, slipping under the wrinkled fabric of Wilson's shirt and palming up his ribs, gaze drifting down a bit and not quite able to hide the softer smile hiding under the self satisfied smirk. 

"I suppose you were expecting something far bigger? Wouldn't be your first time, pal." A wisecrack at Wilson's experience, though said in a teasing tone as one of those gloved hands trailed down low and lightly laid against his base, just barely touching him now.

"I've certainly _seen_ bigger." Wilson brushed a dull claw up the shadow created shaft, watched with a growing excitement as his partner's chest stuttered, a soft exhale and flutter of those dark eyes, let his touch linger on the tip for a few pleasing moments.

"Pot calling the kettle black, lo-" Maxwells voice wavered, grew soft and shallow when Wilson wrapped his hand about that thin cock and gave it an experimental pump, rolling his clawed thumb over the head as he did so, and it was certainly something, watching his partners shoulders fall from the usual tense hold and face go a hint slack in vague surprise, soft as the old man shut his dark eyes a moment. "...love."

Wilson grinned, feeling the hot flutter in his chest, filled in now with an excitement he wasn't privy to often enough, not nearly enough, and he shifted, scooted a bit, his free hand lightly tugging at his partners hip and drawing him closer. The shadow doppelganger, quiet and comfortable laying, hugging up around his back, tilted its head and he felt it's dark featureless face graze against him, just behind his ear in that slimy jelly like consistency that kept its shape, its talons laid limpy atop his knees and only faintly rubbing its thumbs against him in slow movements. 

Maxwell let himself be pulled closer, enough that he was near in Wilson's lap, light bony weight offset by the fact that neither of them were actually naked, just rather indecent. One of those gloved hands went to tuck against his ribs under his shirt and vest, a slight grip to keep balance, and the other was just lightly petting Wilson's erection, faint and slow in comparison to the much firmer strokes Wilson was focusing on giving to his partner.

The comparison of flesh and nightmare fuel would always be hard to grasp, but when he flicked a dull claw up under the flared head and dragged against the slit Maxwell let out a soft, heady exhale of sound, an almost sigh, and when he stroked down and held to the base, the slightest graze of his claws to the shadowy shapes underneath, his partner would shakily inhale, exhale a quiet almost groan, a shivery noise and warm air puffed to fill the little space between them. Firm strokes made Maxwell lean against him, face against his shoulder and huffing breath to his skin, those fading stings of pain sparking up with mixed pleasure and pain at the reminder, and polishing that thin, long erection, dark and slimy with excess nightmare fuel that stained and dampened Wilson's hand, had Maxwell ducking his head and clinging against Wilson tighter, breath fast and shallow as he noted the strain of hips pressing into his grip.

The faint rocking against him was enough to make him twitch, catch his lower lip with his teeth and hold as Wilson shakily exhaled, and his pause seemed to give the older man enough time to gather himself again. The gloved hand on his dick didn't tease now, was firm and steady in a building pace that made him huff air from his nose, fight to keep his eyes half open at the very least, and he followed through by attempting to match the set pace, dull clawed thumb sweeping against that oily head with each stroke. 

The former Nightmare King was always so quiet, even now, and Wilson tilted his head against his partners, face buried to his shoulder and panting hot air against his sweaty stinging skin, engaged together in a nest of limbs and a steady pace in jerking each other off. The shadow clone behind him nuzzled its faceless face into his hair, moving once more with more vigor, dragging its talons up and down his legs, reaching to sweep his clothed sides before trailing back down, and while he couldn't feel the nightmare fuel textures with his clothing still on Wilson appreciated the gesture as it felt him up, revering him and his stature as he worked its creator with a focused goal forming in his mind.

It took a bit of shifting, adjusting and making Maxwell pause, thin chest rising and falling fast as his hand stilled, but Wilson had pulled him near completely onto his lap now, that weight and the movement of the shadow to accommodate the position, and he didn't waste time on speaking up with his intentions.

Instead he only lightly squeezed his partners shadowy member, tilted his head to brush his scraggy unshaven face against the hollow soft wrinkles of the older man, enough to make him huff a shivery little huff of amused complaint, before Wilson easily brushed away that gloved hand and took his own dick in hand.

He didn't leave time for vague confusion or frustration on either of their parts; Wilson shifted enough to slide his cock against his partners, their differences outlined starkly now, and when he wrapped his hand around them both his partner made a noise of pleasant surprise and fond disorientation, a full body shiver through the thin man that made Wilson's heart pound ecstatically in his chest, blood rushing straight to his dick and making him twitch in his own grip.

Maxwell must have felt it too, judging from how he suddenly laid his hand overtop Wilsons, squeezing a grip as those plump lips went back to his poor sensitive neck. The kisses this time were softer, faint with only the hint of swiping tongue, though they grew exponentially more vigorous as Wilson picked up the pace.

He didn't get to do this often enough, near never, and having his hand wrapped about his partners cock was sending fuzzy pleasure to fill out his thoughts, ecstatic excitement in his chest and a boiling white hot pressure building, building in barely contained lust. It made him almost dizzy, tilting to press his forehead against the other man's shoulder, blink down with shining eyes and a panting open mouth as he paid attention to every squeeze and stroke and pull that he did, and feeling Maxwell, _feeling Maxwell_ , nudged up against him and panting hotly against his skin, the very pulse of the man as Wilson pleasured both their arousals together, it was-

-was _incredible_ , really.

Maxwell came first, as was usual; Wilson knew the signs by now, knew as the thin man tensed and shuddered out the slightest exhale of sound, hips jutting up into his grip and grinding his nightmare fuel created cock against Wilsons fleshy one, the sudden tight hold of the shadow all about him as its talons tightened around his legs and thighs, and so too was the bite, the hard snap of jagged teeth to his shoulder and just barely crested against his neck, heat and damp saliva and the faintest pinpricks of what he knew to be his own blood.

There was also just the fact that the shadow erection in his grip, his own cockhead nudged up underneath the flared dark glands and streaked in pale grey pre, throbbed and pulsed a shot of dark fluid all over his clawed hand, ejaculating spurts of oily nightmare fuel as the other man rocked shakily against him with a muffled groan against his shoulder.

Wilson followed shortly after, shivering as a much louder moan escaped him, mouth hanging open and eyelids fluttered closed as his orgasm hit him hard, and it was only helped along by Maxwell's gloved hand tightening over what his own grip wasn't holding, a weakened strength in the grip but still that sweeping little touch that his partner liked to do against his head, spreading what he spent and mixing it against his shaft with the smeared nightmare fuel fluids. 

It took a moment, a few minutes as Wilson panted against his partners shoulder, as Maxwell slowly, shakily continued to try and stroke him, his own dull claws pulling away to lightly grip that worn out suit jacket hanging limply off the other man's thin body, and they both sat there together for a little longer, catching their breaths, easing down from the high.

One of the first things Wilson realized after was the general slimy messiness of too much nightmare fuel in one area, and he blinked open his eyes, exhaustion weighing in on him now as he noted the obvious lack of another dick. The mess of melted down nightmare fuel was answer enough for that, and Wilson let his eyes close for a moment longer, vaguely knowing this was going to be a right mess to clean up, he'll need to take extra care with his genitials that no traces of the oily fuel was left behind, he did _not_ want to know what it could do to him if he just let it be-

The second was when Maxwell unhooked his jaws from his stinging numb neck and leaned back, still situated in Wilson's lap, still breathing a bit heavy as his gloved hands went to stabilize a grip to his shoulders. The movement made him wince, a slight roll of his head and feeling that tingle of blood running down his skin, but his partner's face flashed with an apologetic expression and he leaned forward once more, the slight sting as a tongue lapped softly against him.

That turned into a kiss, a few soft ones pressed and then slowly trailed to his jawline, his cheek, the corner of his mouth as one of Maxwell's hands rose to brush and then linger in his dark hair, and that was enough to recognize that the shadow doppelganger was gone as well, dissipated in a slimy residue that probably coated his back and the bedding underneath him. 

This was just going to be _terrible_ to clean up, Wilson thought, but right now Maxwell was putting a bit of pressure on him, easing him backwards and thankfully not on the splattered mess of shadow remains, just to the side atop the fur bedding.

His partner laid atop him, unwilling it seemed to adjust to any better position, and his kisses were light and gentle now, over every mark left against Wilsons skin with a soft care that he hadn't actually quite anticipated. Both those hands had traveled up to tangle in his hair, scratch softly against his scalp, and Wilson sucked in a deep breath of air, chest rising against the thin bony one laying on him, and when he exhaled it out Maxwell hummed appreciatively against him, nose poking his throat as the man nuzzled against him and relaxed.

Wilsons own claws, held to his partner's jacket, finally unhooked and circled around that bony spine, a faint pull to hold the former Nightmare King close and let his eyes fall closed.

This was certainly not something they ever did up on the surface, and Wilson may not like the dark and general cold, unfeeling nature of these tunnels, but he sure appreciated the privacy and time allowed for intimacy.

Maxwell seemed to share the same thought, and Wilson smiled a small smile, a general fuzzy elation and fondness filling his chest.

This was nice. He hoped they'd get to do it more often in the future.


End file.
